


Off The Clock

by snarechan



Category: Transformers, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Foot Fetish, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-27
Updated: 2007-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus Prime would just make funny faces, Prowl would find it illogical and Ratchet would think they're just being sparklings about it if they knew about the foot fetishes going on behind closed doors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off The Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Cassandra Cassidy and Devilish Kurumi for beta reading this at the last minute. <3

Building bridges is, put simply, not a glamorous job. Stuck in the most remote areas of the galaxy and pitted against some of the harshest conditions, it’s a difficult line of work to be put into – or perhaps, more accurately, it’s the least _fun_. With no one but the handful of crew members aboard your vessel doing nothing but their jobs every cycle of the sun, it can get tedious real quick, even lonely. Depending on the size of the location, you might not even see the teammate you’re paired with for an extended period of time, with nothing but chassis denting labor to fill in the mediocre. Not exactly the glorified line of work everyone makes it out to be.

So it basically goes without saying that, be it for entertainment purposes or purely self-preservation, 'bots get creative in their off-time. Some pastimes are more common than others – observing whatever is on the vid, reading logs, playing sports – whereas there are other means of a more…intimate persuasion that are known to occur. The latter is not necessarily encouraged, but neither is it frowned upon. A fortunate thing for some of the younger generation sent out on missions like this.

“Come _on_ , don’t leave me hanging,” Bumblebee all but whines, various panels already open and his frame doing a rather interesting balancing act along Bulkhead’s far heftier build. He’s hanging partially on him, one of the other Autobot’s digits curled under his knee joint to keep him firmly in place.

His friend shifts, the berth creaking in the process, and one of his metal digits rubs circles along the plating protecting the yellow repair-bot’s leg. This demonstration is viewed in two ways: a good thing in that it feels so _nice_ , but bad because he knows the other is _stalling_. The guy is a gentle giant… _real_ gentle. To the point where he skirts around matters, making sure all his weight is evenly distributed, if at _all_. Which is why Bumblebee is clutching onto him like a drawn magnet, seeing as they’re only half on the berth as it is, and his touches are so hesitantly light that they would border on the point of teasing...if they weren’t so frustrating.

“You’ve hit me with that meteorite of a wrecking ball how many times now and I haven’t broken yet? I’m not made of glass!”

“Man, you’re so _impatient_ ,” Bulkhead grouses. “I’m just trying to set a mood, you know?”

The smaller of the two resists the urge to snort and roll his optics, and instead, a cheeky smile graces his features. Placing a hand on top of Bulkhead’s, Bumblebee helps it slide lower, towards the sensitive equipment located in his feet. A quick guy like him has to have the best to run with, after all - not that the sensors are just good for speed.

“If it’s a ‘mood’ you want to set, then I highly recommend pushing some of _these_ buttons. I guarantee it will produce the results you’re looking for.”

“…Kinda pushy, too.”

Before the repair-bot can make a protest about how he’s neither impatient _nor_ pushy, but _merely being helpful, you ungrateful scrapheap, see if I ever do that thing you like to your wrecking ball again_ , he’s effectively distracted. Though not _silenced_ , if Ratchet’s furious pounding on the wall and complaints from next door about ‘blasted younglings and their hard drives’ is anything to go by.

-Fin-


End file.
